


Smile

by crygooey



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: ??? maybe?, Angst, F/M, Gen, Injury, Light Angst, Love Triangles, Minor Injuries, POV Second Person, Prison, if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:05:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crygooey/pseuds/crygooey
Summary: Mark was not happy.Between getting arrested and being smashed through a brick wall, the odds were stacking up hard against him. His smile had faltered, dimmed by the dark clouds that crowded around him, and you were no longer betting on his optimism to get you both out of here. (Though, judging by the cold shoulder he had been giving you since he’d been released from the infirmary, as well as the casts and bandages that now covered his body, you figured there probably wasn’t much optimism left in him by now, anyways.)
Relationships: Actor Mark & Reader, Mark Fischbach/You, Yancy/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift for @projectwkm on Tumblr as part of the First Visitation Day Gift Exchange! Their prompt was "Yancy & Actor/Asshole Mark, Yancy & Y/N, and angst".

Mark was not happy.

Between getting arrested and being smashed through a brick wall, the odds were stacking up hard against him. His smile had faltered, dimmed by the dark clouds that crowded around him, and you were no longer betting on his optimism to get you both out of here. (Though, judging by the cold shoulder he had been giving you since he’d been released from the infirmary, as well as the casts and bandages that now covered his body, you figured there probably wasn’t much optimism left in him by now, anyways.)

It’s a good thing that while Mark was in the infirmary, you found your reason to stay at Happy Trails Penitentiary. That reason was a certain inmate named Yancy.

From the moment Yancy had opened his mouth and began his spontaneous musical number—backed up both vocally and choreographically by every other inmate there, no less—you knew you’d be seeing a lot more of him, and frankly, you were perfectly fine with that. More than fine, if you were being honest. He had caught your eye (and, dare you admit it, your heart), and after earning his trust and friendship, you found yourself seeking out his company more than you had with anyone else.

More than you ever had with Mark.

You felt a little guilty realizing that with all that time you spent giving Yancy a hand with his lyrics, enjoying the surprisingly lavish accommodations in the Penitentiary, and befriending the other inmates, you just might have forgotten about Mark.

Mark, your heist partner, dealing with the probably awful aftermath of the Wall Incident all alone.

When you heard from a guard that he was being released from the infirmary, you figured it would be as good a time as any to catch up with him. Better late than never… right?

It took a while of searching the prison to finally find Mark sitting alone at table in the cafeteria, all crossed arms and pouty lips. You made a beeline toward him, trying not to be too obvious about the guilt (or pity? Was it pity?) you felt towards him right then. You tried a smile, but it felt off, and he wasn’t looking at you anyway. You also tried not to stare too long at his bandages. If you didn’t notice them too much, maybe you could keep the guilt at bay. Maybe.

“Hey,” you said lightly, taking a seat across from him. It was the first word you’d uttered to him in quite a while, and the only one he’d let you get close enough to say in the hours since he’d been released. He huffed at you, still avoiding your gaze.

You tried again. “It’s nice to see you out and about. Are you feeling better?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m feeling better?” He said. The annoyance was heavy in his voice. Well, at least you got a response.

“You’re moving around,” you replied. “That’s something.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a _good_ something.” He turned his sad, sympathy-seeking eyes onto you. “It _hurts_.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was a simple statement, but your words seemed to spark him and he stood, fast and sudden, as if burned. You couldn’t help but jump at his movement. Despite your preconceived notions, though, you really didn’t think it was the prison that was making you jumpy. Maybe it was just Mark and his emotions that spun on a dime. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught you off guard.

“Oh, you’re sorry, huh?” he said, narrowing his eyes at you. “For what? For letting me get smashed through a wall? For not coming to see me?” He paused, and a flicker of fire blazed in his eyes. He raised his voice as he added, “For not knowing how to fly a goddamn helicopter and getting me into this mess in the first place?”

“Hey, I’m stuck here too, okay?” you countered, getting defensive. You stood, too. You weren’t about to take this nonsense sitting down. It wasn’t always all about him, though working with him as long as you have was beginning to give you the feeling that it, in fact, was.

“Are you? Are you really stuck? Looks like you’re doing just fine getting all buddy-buddy with everyone here,” he said, gesturing vaguely around the room. You followed his hand. Bam Bam and Sparkles McGee were playing a game of cards at another table, and Tiny beside them, picking her nails idly. They seemed oblivious and distracted, but you could tell they were watching you and Mark like hawks, ready to swoop in if things got too serious. Now that you knew the inmates, they really didn’t seem all that threatening, but Mark, reeling from the aftermath of his less-than-friendly welcome, squinted at them and kept his distance.

He turned his gaze back to you, looking you up and down scrutinizingly. “I don’t see you getting flung into any walls,” he added under his breath. You opened your mouth to retort, but he quickly cut you off.

“I should have never listened to you. I should have never let you choose. Look at me! I didn’t think I could even _get _a bruise here,” Mark grumbled, holding his arm up to point the bone of his bare elbow at you. The flesh, where it hadn’t been bandaged, was angry red and mottled purple and looked like it hurt, and the face he made at you—like he was about to _cry_, the big bubble-blowing baby—only confirmed it. But you refrained from going soft on him. He didn’t need coddling. Besides, this was prison. You had a reputation to keep up, now.

“Well, maybe you were too forward,” you offered, crossing your own arms.

“Too forward? Oh, yeah, _I_ was too forward. Says the person who thought rallying up the prisoners was a good idea. I was just doing what _you_ thought was best. But why? When has that ever worked out for me?” He shook his head, baffled at his own predicament. “A _helicopter_? Really?”

Your face burned. “It looked cool, okay?”

“Looking cool doesn’t save our asses, Y/N! You might be okay with things here, but I’m sure as shit not. I’m breaking out _by myself_, _for myself_, and I don’t need _your _help. You’ve been pretty useless with that, anyway,” Mark said, shaking his head and turning to leave.

“What’d you say?”

Mark paused at the voice that came from behind you—an accent you had become very familiar with.

“I said I’m leaving,” Mark replied, taking a step forward. He was stopped by a hand that had nudged gently, carefully, past you, but gripped hard onto Mark’s shoulder. With that, Yancy placed himself solidly between the two of you.

“No, no, no. That ain’t what you said,” Yancy started. “Where d’you get off talkin’ to Y/N like that, anyway, huh?”

Mark spun, heaving out a harsh sigh. “What does it matter to you?”

Yancy peered over his shoulder at you, poking a thumb in Mark’s direction. “This the guy youse came in with?”

You nodded.

“Then it matters entirely. See, Y/N’s been nothin’ but good around here, and you think you can come around here and make trouble for ‘em? They’s family, and I ain’t gonna let youse treat ‘em like anythin’ less. ‘specially since ya knows each other already.”

As Yancy spoke, you noticed the other inmates dropping what they were doing and slowly closing in on the three of you. What must have been an intimidating sight for Mark was not so much for you. In fact, there was a sort of comfort in their presence, despite their hard and serious faces, watching, waiting, warning.

“Now, let’s not get too hasty,” Mark said, backing up, hands raised to his chest in both defense and surrender. “You wouldn’t hurt an already injured guy, would you?” (A flicker in his expression marked the realization that these guys were in fact criminals, murderers, thieves. There probably wasn’t much else stopping them from doing exactly that.) “Uh, you know, kicking a horse while it’s down, and all that…”

“Not unless youse realize what’ya dealin’ with. I personally ain’t gonna stand for this, but since you seem to be havin’ a problem with Y/N’s decisions, I think ‘s’only fair to give ‘em this one,” he nodded to himself, pulling you up next to him. “Either we’s teach this _friend_ a youse’s a lesson, or we’s let him turn tail back into his cell before good ol’ Warden shows up and throws ‘im in solitary for causin’ a scene. It’s up ta youse, Y/N.”

As much as Mark’s words had hit you, you didn’t really want to see him beaten to an even bloodier pulp than he already was. He didn’t deserve it. And judging by the look of pure fear and helplessness on his face, you figured he’d already learned his lesson and then some. There was no reason for a fight, and there was no reason for anyone to risk going to solitary. Mark had had enough solitary confinement during his untimely stay in the infirmary. You’d give him time to cool off in your shared cell, and talk things over with him when he had a more level head.

“Let him go,” you said, and at your words you could’ve sworn you felt Yancy’s and all the other inmates’ shoulders collectively droop. Mark’s expression, on the other hand, was for once unreadable. There was no hint of relief, nor worry, nor confusion. At the most he seemed… pensive. But before you could try to read deeper into it, he turned away, parting the crowd of inmates as he passed, and made his way back towards the cell.

Once he had gone, Yancy turned towards you, his own expression easy to read—concern, care, protection, and softness. Well, as much softness as he could allow in front of the guys and girls that made up his (and now your) prison family. “You doin’ alright, Y/N?”

You matched his gaze for a few moments before breaking away, looking back to the hallway where you last saw Mark. You half expected him to reappear there, all smiles and jokes and sarcasm like he’d usually be, like this was all a big prank and everyone was in on it but you, but he never did. Why would he? You tried to smile, but it felt off.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think so.”


End file.
